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V Gangadhar

Pitman Ramakrishnan

It was the second letter from my cousin,
C C Ramakrishnan, popularly known as 'Ramu'. He was on his second visit to the US and he had posted the letter from Sunnyvale, California. Last year, he and his wife had made a trip to the US, where both their son and daughter are working. "I have seen all the places to be seen in the US," Ramu wrote. Knowing his nature, I believe him. In fact, I would not be surprised if he had managed to gatecrash into the White House and chatted with Bill and Hillary Clinton.

If such a meeting had taken place, what would Ramu have discussed with the president of the United States? I am sure of at least one of the topics. Sir Issac Pitman. Yes, the man who invented shorthand. Ramu would have categorically told the president that the US would be able to solve most of its problems if only its citizens learnt shorthand. And, of course, prayed to Pitman.

We all have our Gods -- Vishnu, Shiva, Ganesha, Karthikeya and so on. Ramu worshipped all of them, but his supreme God was Sir Pitman. A shorthand devotee for the last 45 years, Ramu firmly believed that whatever he had achieved in life was due to Pitman's invention. So why not deify someone who had contributed to upliftment of thousands of young south Indians who entered the job market by learning shorthand and typing?

Pitman and his invention worked wonders for Ramu. How else can one explain the elevation of C C Ramakrishnan from the unknown village of Chokkanathapuram in Palakadu to the dizzy heights of California and New York where his son was an executive with Morgan and Stanley? Ramu's reply can be summed up in three words, "Sir Issac Pitman."

And why not? Ramu lost his father, a school teacher, very early in his life and was brought up by a well-meaning but tyrannical grandfather who believed that sparing the rod would spoil the child. The rod was liberally used on him, particularly when grandpa tried to teach young Ramu arithmetic. An average student, Ramu might have been better if he been taught at home by someone who used sweet reasonableness instead of a slap or a pinch.

He and his widowed mother did not have a pleasant time in Palakadu. But I always remember him as a cheerful youngster, who was an expert at carrom, marbles and other village games. Once, when he visited us in Madras, my father took us to the newly-opened Woodlands restaurant. The opulence and the air-conditioning was too much for Ramu. "Idhudanda swargam (This is paradise)," he gasped in ecstasy.

After struggling to get through the SSC examination, Ramu began to learn shorthand and typewriting. He worked really hard, practising his squiggles, dots and dashes. Dozens of his friends who had mastered the art of stenography had taken up jobs in Bombay, Calcutta and Madras and Ramu did not want to be left behind. He, too, left for Madras and was initially supported by his sister and brother-in-law. Meanwhile, he continued to improve his shorthand and typewriting.

We lost touch for several years. I learnt Ramu had joined Parry and Co (later to become EID Parry), one of the leading commercial firms in Madras. Obviously he shone as a stenographer and, then, as a secretary. His pushy nature and outspokenness impressed the bosses who gave him the responsibility of promoting some of the important products of the firm, like Horlicks. He thought of and implemented innovative schemes which were successful. Very soon, 'Palakadu Ramu' became 'Parry and Co Ramu' and, then, 'Horlicks Ramu'.

Yet, Ramu never overlooked the fact that it was stenography which made him what he was. Looking around, he found hundreds and thousands of south Indians from less-than-affluent families beginning as typists and stenographers and working their way to become senior executives. He felt that they should all express their gratitude to Sir Pitman. Then, an idea struck him. Why not celebrate Pitman Jayanti (anniversary)? Support came from other stenographers.

Ramu arranged a gala function on Sir Pitman's 100th birth anniversary and invited his grandson to preside over the function. It was a pleasant surprise when Pitman (Jr) immediately agreed and arrived in Madras. He was deeply touched by the honour bestowed on him by the south Indian stenographers. Ramu was finally crowned 'Pitman Ramakrishnan'.

The Madras stenographers and students of shorthand helped Ramu found the Stenographers Guild. After years of struggle, they managed to collect enough funds for their own building. Every year, the Guild celebrated Pitman Jayanti in a grand manner. Politicians, bureaucrats, journalists, corporate executives and high courts judges gladly co-operated with the venture.

But Ramu was moving on. He was busy conducting government exams in shorthand all over the state. He also helped Godrej hold their annual All India speed typewriting contest. The contest became famous all over the country and winners ranged from Chandigarh doctors to clerks from Tamil Nadu.

Ramu was married to the headmistress of a school in Madras. He built his own house. Witnessing each achievement proudly was his mother. In her younger days, she had longed, in vain, to watch Tamil films. Now her son bought her a VCR and she could watch several movies a day! His mother reigned like a benevolent, proud monarch over Ramu's household. His son and daughter studied hard and had distinguished academic careers. They specialised in computer science and hold senior jobs in the US.

The shorthand expert had come a long way. But he is still unassuming and outspoken and continues singing Pitman's praises. Even as he adjusted to the computer era which had made typewriters obsolete, Ramu continues to believe that shorthand has a permanent role. "Fax messages and telephonic conversations cannot transmit confidential messages," he pointed out. "For that, you still need a faithful secretary and good, old shorthand."

Illustration: Dominic Xavier